Valentine Gifts
by Morefindiel
Summary: The sequel to "Countdown." Jareth has returned for this silly mortal holiday - just like he promised.


When she woke up holding the rose, she was surprised. It took her a few drowsy minutes to wipe the sleep from her eyes and remember New Year's Eve. Then she understood the rose. She didn't accept it, but she understood it.

When she walked out to the kitchen and saw the gigantic pink-and-red stuffed dog occupying her usual breakfast seat, she laughed. Who wouldn't? The thing was so soft and cute and _big_. Goodness, it was big. And so adorable. She couldn't resist. She hugged him and petted him and talked to him while she fixed her morning coffee and fed Arthur Pendragon, her cat. She named the dog Perceval, after one of Arthur's knights.

When she arrived at work and saw the box of chocolates at her desk, she rolled her eyes. As if she would eat anything of his after that peach. She was about to throw the sweets away when she noticed that they were addressed from Toby. That made Sarah feel a little guilty.

When _his_ chocolates were delivered a few minutes later, she was somewhat embarrassed. Especially after Annie started to pester Sarah about her boyfriend. The girl was worse than the Spanish Inquisition.

When the flowers arrived, Sarah was perturbed. Her annoyance grew with each bouquet. There were thirteen. Thirteen bouquets of thirteen red roses. The only positive thing was that Annie was allergic to pollen, and had to go home early. That made Sarah feel a little better.

When the barber shop quartet arrived, Sarah was pissed. The song was obviously composed by _him_. She was certain she heard the words "crystal" and "king" and "labyrinth of love," as cheesy as that sounds. When she heard "slave," Sarah sank into her chair, red-faced. The nerve of him! Not only did he embarrass her in front of her coworkers, he didn't even have the gall to come and sing to her himself, the jerk. The rest of the office applauded as the quartet finished. After that, the day was gloriously uneventful. Of course, Sarah was on edge the whole time. The stupid jerk was making her paranoid. Soon she'd be rigging traps and alarms all over her house and planning escape routes and such.

When she saw the red velvet cake sitting on the table, she was reminded of her anger and annoyance at the giver. Sarah did not touch it as she began to fix her simple supper.

When she saw _Sleepless in Seattle_ sitting on the coffee table, her heart did something that made her even more angry towards him, and also towards herself, too. Stupid organ. Sarah fell asleep watching _Lilo & Stitch_, because it did not have fairies, goblins, blondes, or romance in it whatsoever. The television was off when she awoke.

When she saw the lit candles and the rose petals scattered in a path leading to her bedroom, Sarah was shocked. But not for long. Soon, she was livid. She picked up the nearest hard object she could find to use as a weapon.

Realizing that she had grabbed her hardcover _Annotated Works of Jane Austen_, she gingerly set the book down before moving to the kitchen and retrieving her rolling pin from its drawer. Sarah then proceeded cautiously down the hall, pin raised, body alert to any sign of movement. She quite nearly jumped out of her skin when Arthur Pendragon mewed behind her.

When she arrived at her room, only to find it empty of goblins or Goblin Kings, a part of Sarah rejoiced. The other part… did not. Sarah roughly stamped that part out.

She walked over to her rose-petal-and-glitter covered bed and, lo and behold, there lay a crystal with a note tucked underneath. To read the note, she was going to have to touch the crystal. Of course. With her thumb and pointer fingers she gingerly picked up the orb. Sarah was grateful when nothing happened. She glanced at the note.

_Sarah,  
_

_Did you enjoy my gifts? There is one more I wish to give, one that I think will mutually beneficial. Do you want it? If so, leave a glass of champagne out for me.  
_

_–Jareth_

_P.S. I assure you that the drink is not drugged._

Sarah laughed dryly. As if his assurances gave her any comfort. She looked up to see an ice bucket holding the chilled champagne he had mentioned sitting on her night stand. There were two champagne flutes beside it.

To pour, or not to pour? That was the question. Sarah certainly didn't want to end up on her bed in a similar predicament to what he had placed her in on New Year's Eve. Her body warmed at the suggestion, and her hand raised a little towards the champagne, before it was slapped forcefully down by her brain. How old was she now? Past teenage hormones, that was for sure. Stupid hormones. Stupid Jareth.

To put her traitorous hormones back in place, Sarah thought of all the things he had done to her today. With each remembrance, her temper rose, until she was quite thoroughly incensed.

Unfortunately, this did not help her current situation, because the angrier she became, the more she wanted to call Jareth so that she could give him a piece of her mind. Her body applauded this reasoning, because, well, anger can be a _passionate_ emotion. Her mind then stamped this notion out, and became all the more angry at Jareth, who had started this whole conflict in the first place, and her hormones added their input, and it just turned into one great conflicting cycle.

Sarah gave a cry of frustration and flopped onto her bed dramatically. A distant echo of a masculine laugh seemed to play through the air. It was that laugh that cracked her.

"Fine!" she shouted, and stood defiantly. "Fine!" And she popped the cork in one great huff and poured two glasses. She mumbled, "But don't expect me to drink any of your alcohol."

"But Precious, why ever not?" Well, he certainly was fast, when he wanted to be.

Sarah composed her face into a hard, cruel mask, straightening her shoulders before turning on him. "Maybe because of that damn _peach_ you gave me."

"Dearest, that was so many years ago. Shouldn't we let bygones be bygones? 'Forgive and forget,' you know." He smirked and stepped towards her. "Now, about my next gift."

"I don't want it."

"I think you do." Step.

"Oh really?" She tried to make her sarcasm bite, but his smirk only grew.

"Yes, really," he picked up his note from the bed, "I asked you to leave a glass of champagne for me if you wanted my gift. It says so right here." He waved the note. "You poured the glass, so therefore, you must want the gift." His pointed teeth were showing now. "If you had simply wanted to yell at me, all you had to do was call me; the champagne would have been unnecessary." He picked up his champagne flute and sipped. "So, as it were, your pouring of this – mmm – _delicious_ liquid, was, in itself, an acceptance of my gift."

Sarah stared openmouthed at him in indignation. _Of course, you idiot._ Amid the conflicting anger and raging hormones, it had completely slipped Sarah's mind that she was dealing with some sort of Fae, and that Fae _love_ to twist words. She should've known.

Well, he wasn't getting off _that_ easy. Sarah composed herself. "Speaking of gifts, I don't recall _accepting _or _inviting_ any of the others you've given me. _Thirteen bouquets?_ Do you realize how _embarrassing_ that was?"

"Certainly."

"Argh! You're– You're– You're horrendous! Abominable!"

"Precious, I thoroughly researched the methods and practices of your silly mortal holiday, and followed them to a tee. The aforementioned research led me to believe that you would be _grateful_ for my presents."

"Well, I'm grateful for neither your _presents_ nor your _presence_."

"I think you're lying."

"Don't toy with me, Goblin King. I'm not in the mood for your games."

"Oh but Precious, the game has already begun. And I'm afraid that the only option is to play or forfeit. I will gladly accept either one, because in both, I win."

"I don't recall ever agreeing to any sort of game."

"My dear, you agreed when you poured me this glass."

The stupid champagne might just turn out to be one of the worst decisions of her life. And she hadn't even taken a drink.

"What sort of game?"

"I'm afraid you're not allowed to know."

"Well it seems pretty stupid if I'm playing a game and I don't even know what it is."

He stepped very close to her. "Well, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it." _Oh. My._ Sarah's hormones suddenly began screaming at her to lean forward, while her mind attempted to force herself to lean back. Unfortunately, she was against the edge of her bed. Wasn't this what she had been afraid of? _No, I believe it was _on _the bed._

She had to control herself. _Think, Sarah._ "Well," she said, sliding away from him casually, "I'm not really in the mood for playing. So what now? Personally, I'd like to go to bed." She regretted her words the minute they left her mouth. His eyebrows raised, and he gave her the grin of a predator. Sarah stumbled to catch herself. "By myself. Alone. Meaning, you would _leave_."

"Precious, I have no desire to leave."

She riled again. "Well, that's too bad, because there is _no way_ I'm going to crawl into bed while you watch with those– those _sex_ eyes of yours, so you should just–"

"_Sex eyes?_ Whatever do you mean?"

Sarah's cheeks flamed. "Never mind! Just _go_!" He made no move to leave. In fact, he didn't move at all. Anger rising, Sarah pointed her finger at him and advanced. "_Listen_, you are going to leave _now_ or I am going to _throw _you out of that window! I've had enough of your _gifts _and _games_ and such! I'm _tired_ and I want to go to _sleep_, so you can just get your glittery, costumed, egotistical self _out_ of my house!"

She was awfully close to him now, her finger jutting up under his chin, her expression exasperated, and all he did was smirk down at her in amusement. It was so frustrating!

So, naturally, Sarah shoved him. _Hard_. He frowned, allowing a small step back, before quickly and silently advancing on her. Sarah did not have much time to think, retreating only a few steps before he pinned her to the wall, his mouth descending upon hers.

His kiss was demanding, forceful, passionate, fierce, and so many other things that Sarah could not recall the names of, because all the words had fled with her logic when he pressed his lips to hers. Sarah only knew that she liked it, and that she liked it a lot.

He still wasn't off the hook, but he was just so _good_. She wanted to fight back, she really did, but those damn hormones were storming the battlements of her mind. What was she doing? _Stop it! Stop it!_

He pressed her to the wall, one hand on her hips. The other found the small of her back a pulled her roughly to him, so that every line of her body was pressed to his. Sarah clung to him as if her life depended on it, her hands threading in his silken hair. She bit his lip and gave a tug, and his responding moan sent vibrations throughout her body.

The hand at her back ran down her hip before grabbing her thigh and hitching her leg up around his waist. Sarah gasped, and he began to trail hot kisses down her neck. "Oh, _Jareth_." His name on her lips sent a shock of desire through him, and he consumed her mouth once again.

Jareth pulled her close, as if he would never let go, grasping her tightly. "Happy Valentine's Day, precious," he whispered, breathing hard, and gave her one last fierce kiss before wrenching himself away and vanishing.

Sarah's knees buckled, and she slid to the floor. _Damn_ him! This was the second time he had left her like this, the jerk! The nerve of him!

Well, perhaps next time wouldn't be like that.

Wait, _next time_? How could she even think…?

_Dammit!_

_

* * *

_

_A/N: So. _

_Firstly, I am not very happy with how this one ended (in an I-don't-like-my-writing sort of way, not a he-just left-her-hanging sort of way), but hey._

_Secondly, many thanks to my _new_ beta_ _for pointing out my character inaccuracies and other such things. She knows who she is, but for some reason fanfiction is only letting me post the numbers in her name. It's just weird. So, without the spaces, it is _**hopeless. romantic. 3739**. _Stupid fanfiction, mumble, grumble..._

_Thirdly, I do not own _The Labyrinth_. Unfortunately._

_Fourthly, I have already had a call for a St. Patrick's one. I say, perhaps, but my birthday is also in March, so I may do a birthday fic instead._

_Fifthly, if you have not read my profile, I must tell you that I am on a hiatus due to end-of-the-year schoolwork. The only reason why I'm posting this is because I very nearly promised it to you. So you might not get anything in March at all. Or April. Or May._

_Sixthly, review! But be nice, please. :D_


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